


Buoy

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-04
Updated: 2010-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McGee gets sent to the USS Ronald Reagan for a case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buoy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [](http://kageygirl.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kageygirl.livejournal.com/)**kageygirl** for looking this over. Set after the end of Season 5.

Serving penance on the _Ronald Reagan_ wasn't that bad. Once you got past the lack of women and the bad food and the no freedom whatsoever and the lack of privacy and the sheer fucking boredom, it was almost... Not _pleasant_. Not even close. But it wasn't hell. Purgatory, maybe. A place to spend his time in contemplation of all the mistakes he'd made in his tenure with NCIS. _The_ mistake he'd made.

Tony sighed, then closed the heavy metal hatch behind him. No, not Purgatory. Because if this was Purgatory, then that'd make the figure sacked out on Tony's bunk his waiting Beatrice, and _that_ was stretching the metaphor a little too far for his tastes.

"How's your stomach?" he called softly. Not that he was being careful not to wake McGee if he was asleep. It was just that a startled McQueasy could end up hurling all over Tony's bunk, and even though Tony definitely wouldn't be the one cleaning up after him, that kind of smell took way too long to fade in tight quarters.

"It's fine. The Dramamine's making me sleepy, s'all." McGee scrubbed both palms over his face, then sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bunk. "You know Vance sent me because I hate ships."

Tony snorted. "And here I thought it had something to do with my request for the best hacker we have."

McGee's grin was slow. Knowing. "Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what you told Vance. Probably more like 'don't send McGee, he'll puke over everything,' right?"

"Not in those precise words." He was pretty sure he threw a 'please, for the love of God, don't send McGee' in there, as well. Just to drive the point home. "It worked, didn't it?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about being the briar patch to your Br'er Rabbit." McGee was still smiling, though. Smiling straight at Tony, his eyes sleepy-soft and welcoming. There was a little red spot on his forehead where he had rested his arm to block out the light, and his hair was mussed, loose around his face. But then he sighed, ruining the picture of naptime contentment as he looked towards the hatch. "Everything taken care of with Hendricks?"

"The MPs have a tighter grip on him than Gibbs on coffee. He'll go out on the first flight tomorrow morning." On McGee's flight. The flight that was taking him back to civilization. Back to civilization--and away from Tony.

"Right. I should probably get back to guest quarters, get what sleep I can." McGee pushed off the bunk. Tony took a step forward, blocking his path. They hadn't said anything after that night--the first night, the last night, the only night--but he didn't think he was taking any chances right now. He curled his hand around the back of McGee's neck and drew him forward. Their kiss was slow, sweet, a getting-reacquainted kiss that didn't do anything to dampen the crazy need he felt.

"Sleep on the plane," he whispered. It was half order, half plea, and apparently not nearly enough of either, because McGee drew back, shaking his head.

"This isn't a good idea. Anyone could walk in--"

"Agent Afloat's quarters are inviolate. The captain himself wouldn't dare." Well, he probably would, but he didn't have any reason to come down here in the middle of their night, and McGee didn't need to worry himself with what ifs. "Calm down."

And then that knowing grin was back, the one that made Tony's muscles tighten in embarrassing ways. "I didn't think you wanted me calm."

Tony chuckled. "Bad choice of words. _Relax._ Let Tony take care of things."

"You know, it's pretty creepy when you talk about yourself in third person. Kind of like--"

"Tim. Shut up." He backed that order up with action, stopping any chance of words coming out of McGee's mouth. McGee whimpered, then brought his hands up, knotted them around the plackets of Tony's shirt. Tony walked them back, towards the tiny bed that still managed to take up a third of the cabin. He steered them down onto it, stretching out alongside McGee without ever moving away from his mouth. This was good, exactly what he needed. The probie's aftershave had already overwhelmed the lye-heavy detergent smell that always clung to his sheets; after this, the whole bunk would smell of nothing but them together. Smell like him and McGee and _home_. He'd have to find somewhere else to conduct his interviews for the entire next week, but oh, so worth it.

"Ow," McGee whined. Tony pulled back, frowning at him. "Your shoe," he explained. "You keep dragging it across my shin."

"Oh, sorry." They both sat up, McGee awkward from lack of elbow room, penned in by Tony and the bulkhead as he was. Tony stood up so he could strip off his shoes and socks and jeans. He started unbuttoning his shirt while he waited for McGee to catch up. He was caught between nostalgia and fantasies of the future while he watched; they'd been so desperate that night that he couldn't even remember if he'd seen McGee take off his clothes. But maybe, if he ever got off this damn boat...

And maybe he could go back and erase the reason he was serving out a sentence here, while he was wishing.

McGee had his shirt and shoes off at last, but he was hesitating over his belt. He licked his lips and looked up with wide eyes, like he was afraid Tony was going to fling open the hatch and invite the whole crew in to take a look.

"I said _relax_." Tony knelt down on the mattress, letting his open shirt envelope them both as he leaned over for another kiss. He pushed McGee's hands out of the way and unbuckled his belt by touch, then moved onto the zipper. It was a lot harder to unzip a zipper left-handed, backwards, while laying down, but years of practice got the job done. He slipped his fingers in through the opening.

"Tony." The way McGee said his name was... Not begging, but full of want just the same. Tony liked it, like it a lot. He liked the way McGee gripped his shoulder, liked the way he heaved his hips up without asking when Tony slid his fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Liked the way McGee's cock twitched towards him once it was finally free, full and wet and very, very eager for Tony's mouth.

"Oh, God, _Tony_." McGee groped for him, fingers brushing through Tony's hair over and over but never actually grabbing on. Tony lifted his head, rolling his eyes back as far as he could. McGee looked just as devastated as the first time Tony did this. Devastated and gorgeous, what with his soft bangs falling boyishly over his face, his cheeks hollowed out with his panted breaths.

McGee groped for him again, and Tony reached back with his left hand--the hand not busy helping out his mouth--and laced their fingers together. McGee's grip tightened and a second later he came with a gasp. Tony swallowed as fast as he could. Once the smell in here faded, this was what he'd remember. The taste of McGee in the back of his throat.

McGee's stranglehold loosened, and Tony let him pull away. McGee swiped his hand across his face, then pressed it against his forehead like he was trying to push his massive brain back inside. Tony smirked. Oh, yeah. He still had it.

Then McGee propped himself up on his elbows and smiled lazily. "So, my turn now?"

Tony's cock twitched hard in his boxers. A blowjob from McGee--oh, yeah, that sounded fantastic. But as he shoved his underwear down, he realized he was feeling a little too territorial for that to satisfy him tonight.

"Just stay there," he said, giving McGee's chest a little shove. Then he stretched out until he was braced just above McGee, chest to chest, his thighs straddling McGee's thigh, his cock happily snug against the soft skin of McGee's underbelly. He held himself there for a moment, staring into McGee's pupil-dark eyes, until he realized that McGee was studying him just as intently. He ducked his head to McGee's throat for a soft nip, and then he started moving his hips.

Doing it this way didn't give him the best ride he'd ever had. His cock wasn't in the tightest place it'd ever been or the warmest, but McGee's skin was the perfect slickness. And Tony was hungry. Hungry for more than physical sensation--not that he'd ever admit that out loud. McGee's hands were strong on his hips, pulling Tony even tighter against his body, and it didn't take long to get there. Tony shoved hard one last time and came. Came all over McGee, marking him with semen and sweat.

Tony started to slide to the side, hoping that he didn't tumble himself off the bed, but McGee tightened his arms. Tony took the hint and let himself collapse where he was. It wasn't like it was a hardship, after all. Especially with McGee's hands roaming over his back, alternating between soothing passes and gentle rubs.

"I missed this," McGee mouthed against his hair, a confession Tony wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear.

Tony turned his head so he his own confession was aimed at the hollow of McGee's throat. "I need to come home."

"Gibbs is trying."

"I know." Tony sighed. He had faith in Gibbs. He did. Although he wasn't all that sure how much faith Gibbs should have in him. "It's just... I _want_ to come home, Tim."

McGee tightened his arms. "I want you back, too."

Tony sighed again. Tomorrow, Tim would be gone and he'd still be here. But that was still a few hours away. He closed his eyes and let McGee's warm hands lull him to sleep.


End file.
